


yellow out of marigolds

by braigwen_s



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Shaming and Mild Homophobia, Bullying, Childhood, Escaping Boring & Grownup Social Events, Falling Into Mud Puddles, Ft. Downey and Ronald Rust, Gen, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braigwen_s/pseuds/braigwen_s
Summary: Sybil had been trying to escape the ‘party’ bit of the garden party to go and enjoy the garden.  A bunch of boys ruined her plans when one of them got shoved over.
Relationships: Sybil Ramkin & Havelock Vetinari
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	yellow out of marigolds

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "I Wanted So Badly to Be Brave" by The Wonder Years.

Sybil had been trying to escape the ‘party’ bit of the garden party to go and enjoy the garden. It was her family’s house and garden estate, after all, so if anybody could wander off it would be her. Her mother and father were hosting the party, so they had things to be doing, but she had been polite, and courteous, and smiled, and tried to blend into the background and look smaller, and now she decided she was going to look smaller still by heading off and investigating the croaking sounds that had been coming from a small pond. Thus, it was out of the corners of her eyes that she saw it; a small group of boys about her age struggling. They seemed to be surrounding one of them, a slimmer boy with straight black hair that hung around his shoulders. She gave her head a little shake at the stupidity of boys, and kept walking, determinedly looking away. Then she heard laughter and a little ‘splash,’ and her curiosity got the best of her. She turned back to see most of the boys running, leaving behind the black-haired one. The black-haired one had landed in a mud puddle, and was pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. The other boys looked anything but concerned or regretful.

She gathered herself, and strode over. Maybe she did have something to do at this party, after all. They spread out warily as she approached them. She was bigger and taller than every one of them. After squinting a bit, she identified two of them. “What did you do that for? Ronnie Rust, that was not very nice of you. And Will Downey, you should know better, you are a year older than I!”

“He deserved it,” said Ronnie. “He was ruining our fun, don’t you see, Sybil?”

“It’s a pity you’re too big to shove over,” said Will. “You’re coming to his rescue; what are you, the brave and dashing hero?” All the boys laughed; Sybil flushed red, embarrassed and feeling bad about the way she looked.

“Veterinary is a bit girly,” said a third boy. So the boy who had fallen over was Havelock Vetinari. He was Sybil’s age, she knew, and lived with his aunt because his father had died. She’d met him, once; her father and his aunt had been talking about betrothing the two of them. She didn’t know if they’d agreed to anything or not; she’d find out when she was older, she supposed. “Maybe he’s _into_ gigantic girls,” the third boy continued, and oh, why had he needed to go and say that, especially just then? “What do you think?”

“If girls at all,” said Will. Sybil glared at them, and they cleared off, boy by boy. Some of them spat more taunts at her as they left.

She shook her head again, more firmly, trying shake all of her hurt feelings out of it and back into the garden air. Then she tramped her way over to Havelock, and knelt down beside him. He was still just on his hands and knees; maybe he had been hurt. “Are you alright?” she asked. They –” she said, and bit her lip. She hadn’t actually seen him fall, so she didn’t know for certain that they’d done it. “You got pushed over,” she hedged.

“I am okay,” he said. He looked at her, and then down over himself. His clothes were very dirty. “I think mud will become the next fashion.” She couldn’t quite tell if Havelock were joking, but she thought that he might have been. He nodded towards her legs. “For example, you have some on your skirt.”

Sybil looked down at the mud spatters on the hem and base of her pink dress. “I was going to the pond to look at the frogs,” she explained.

“Yes,” said Havelock, “I know. I saw you listening to them croaking while Mister Selachii was talking.”

“Oh,” she said. She looked at his hand, which he had been wiping clean on the grass. There was a scrape, dotted with fresh red points, that blurred into red lines as she watched. “You’re bleeding,” she said.

“It’s alright,” he said. “I don’t mind that. I mind that they insulted you.”

Sybil bit her lip again. She had almost managed to forget what they had said, but Havelock had just reminded her of it. “Oh,” she repeated. “Do you want to come inside and get cleaned up? You probably should,” she added, thinking about what all of her aunts would say if they saw her that covered in muck and with grazes on her hand and clothing torn at her elbow.

“Okay,” he said. He wiped his other hand to hold hers with; that one wasn’t bleeding. Then he let her help him up.


End file.
